Mafia
by b4ndg33k
Summary: When a mafia family learns Romano's best kept secret, he's willing to do anything to protect the most important person in his life- Veneziano. No matter how many bridges he needs to burn, or how many lies he needs to tell. If he's still around by the end of this, he can always try to fix it then. But one thing is clear. N. Italy will not be hurt. WILL BE UPDATED INFREQUENTLY


**(A/N: so, i've often wondered what would happen if a Nation was blackmailed, and various other things. I also wondered why the Mafia never did anything to North Italy, even though they bully Romano. several partial plot-bunnies appeared in my mind, and this story was born. please enjoy!)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Hetalia, or criminal organizations, even though the CIA and FBI will probably put me on watchlists because of the research i'm going to be doing. . .  
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"What did you just say?" The pen dropped from Romano's hand, his attention now fully focused on the mouth-man sent from the Marcos Family. The Italian had been messing around with next year's budget, trying to make the numbers somehow turn out okay when this guy had come in requesting an audience. Romano had thought he would just request more aid be sent to some of their Russian comrades overseas, but that obviously wasn't what was on the man's mind. Romano never thought that he would wish he was dealing with the Easterners.

The mouth-man in question realized just how thoroughly he must have pissed off his Capo on the last job to have been chosen for this assignment. "My Boss has heard many rumors, Mr. Italy- or if you would prefer, Italia Romano." A series of emotions flashed in Mr. Italy's eyes, too fast for the mouth-man to follow or understand.

"That name means nothing to me. If your owner has the time to gossip and listen to fairy-tales, next time he can come see me himself, and tell me these amusing stories in person." Mr. Italy's silky smooth tones hid a thinly veiled threat. The mouth-man felt the urge to remind the father of the mafia of the phrase 'don't shoot the messenger!' but that would probably get him in more trouble than his silence. And his Capo still had more to relay to this man in front of him.

"My Capo also took several trips to the Venice region."

"And why the hell should I care?" the mouth-man could have sworn his tone got icier.

"My Capo, he took a lot of tours around the city, got a few photographs he wanted you to see." He handed him a sealed envelope which was ripped open to reveal photos- grainy, out of focus, shot from a long distance, and slightly blurry from being improperly developed, but they were all clear- of a man a few years younger than Mr. Italy. The family resemblance was clear, even though the other man's hair and skin were a couple of shades lighter, the eyes (when they were visible) were amber-brown instead of Romano's (if that was his actual name) shifting eyes.

Mr. Italy's eyes froze wide in horror seeing this other person's face frozen in time, buying a gelato, catching a bus, flirting with a pretty girl, and once having lunch with a muscular blond man with stern blue eyes and a smaller asian man. There was also a note included. Mr. Italy swept the photos into his pocket and slid then note back to the mouth-man. "read it." He commanded. It would leave an opening if the Nation took his attention away from the man in front of him, and it was yet another way to emphasize that the human took orders from him. The human swallowed hard and began.

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_My dear Benefactor,_

_ What a charming little brother you have!-_the nerve in Mr. Italy's jaw jumped, and the mouth-man skipped his boss mentioning that he had spoken with the little brother, posed as an acquaintance of Romano's

_You have proven time and time again throughout the long years I've known you that not only will you never wither or age, but gunshots and knives are mere annoyances. With this in mind, I can assume that threatening your brother would have the same effect. For the longest time I was unsure of how best to use this juicy little tidbit until I noticed last weekend after that earthquake in Sicily you had a very pronounced limp. _

_It was then I realized that to damage the nation is to damage you-perhaps you really are, as some of my older superstitious advisors claim, some sort of guardian spirit, born from this land and tied to it? You have never done anything to prove or disprove any theory asked regarding your origins, but if that is the case then this will be of some interest to you. On my tour of Northern Italy, I placed bombs in many interesting areas- enough I assure you, to bring the nation of Italy it it's- or rather, __your__ knees._

_Naturally I won't tell you where the bombs are, but it someone were to find them, I will have to do something drastic. If you or your charming little brother are able to walk off bombs, the way you can other means of harm, then I will simply ask a few of our less savory mutual acquaintances to *borrow* your brother for a while. He's so naïve, I have to wonder if he even knows anything about your little side venture with us. You can expect more correspondence from me._

_We shall do wonderful things together_

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Romano remained frozen in his seat. how had this happened? Not once in thousands of years did any family ever suspect Veneziano's existence, let alone try to use him as blackmail, and now that old bastard had him by the balls and both of them knew it.

"Your Capo has no demands at the moment?" Hhe mouth-man swallowed nervously. The twenty-something man's tone reminded him of a snake-charming act he had seen as a boy, of the cobra rising up out of its basket, hissing and swaying, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The Patria probably didn't have venom, but one didn't rise to his position without being even more deadly than a cobra. The mouth-man's knees grew weak and started to shake.

"None. He, ah, just wanted you aware of the situation."

"Huh. So I guess my first problem is what to do with you." Romano put the photos into a desk drawer and pulled out a gun, clicking off the safety and pointing it at the mouth-man. Obviously this loose end couldn't be allowed to spill what he knew to others. The Don had sent him with the expectation that Romano would kill him to keep quiet. This was the way the game was played, Romano reminded himself. There was no way Veneziano would have told him, or anyway the Don could have learned that it would hurt Romano to kill one of his own citizens.

"I don't intend to become that man's puppet, and I'm feeling merciful today." One side of his mouth twitched up as the beginnings of a plan started tumbling around in his mind. He quickly killed the emotion before the man on the other side of the gun could see.

"You'll leave the country." He informed the man. This would be a bit of a stretch, since his usual method to get rid of people who knew too much was to give them cement shoes and take them on a little midnight cruise. But this man was more useful alive. He must have done something to piss off his Don, probably he had seen or heard something he wasn't supposed to. To keep him on a leash, and get rid of him, the smart thing would be to immediately send him to deliver a message that would get him killed. It was establishing the power from the start, putting Romano in the lower position, having to clean up after the Marcos family.

Most mafia plays were part of a giant chess game, and Romano's opponent had made his first mistake, sending him a pawn he could use at a later time. Of course there was always the possibility of a double bluff, but that would mean sending a useful man into an almost certain death scenario on the hope of the slightest chance that Romano would use him. No, he decided, the Don wasn't that big a gambler.

"Where can I go?" the mouth-man had never left Italy in his life. Hell, he had never been fifty miles away from his hometown before. He had a fiancée waiting for him that he would probably never see again . . . But if it was leaving the country or his life, then the Mouth-man would move. Who knew, maybe he would one day be able to see his homeland again. . . .

No one could be allowed to get away with threatening his baby brother. Veneziano had already been established as a potential soft spot, the best way to mitigate the damage would be to quickly and fiercely teach the mafia world that no one who came in contact with the little brother survived. At least it would be confined to only one family. The Don wouldn't give up dirt he had on the Patria to the other family heads without a fight. If this cloud had one silver lining, at least the Marcos family would protect the secret of Veneziano just as fiercely as Romano would.

"I'm told Belarus is lovely this time of year." Romano said coldly.

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**So what did you think? Please feel free to review and/or flame!**


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